


Forty-Seven

by DreamingKate



Category: Glee
Genre: Drugging, Forced Prostitution, Human Trafficking, Kidnapping, M/M, self-hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:51:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1896315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingKate/pseuds/DreamingKate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had been trapped here for six months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Blaine is taken by a human trafficking group and rescued after 6 months would love some Hudmelson bonding Ps Love all of your stories!!

Forty-seven. 

There were forty-seven stained tiles on the ceiling. 

Blaine stared up, the uncomfortable mattress sagging under him, eyes tracing over the tiles again and again. The door smashed open but he just kept counting, knowing that struggling only made things worse. His thin arm was grabbed and a needle slid into the crook of his elbow.

The world distorted slightly and he gasped. By now, Blaine could tell who the clients were by the type of drugs pumped into him. Some liked him blank and unaware, like a doll. Some liked him pumped full of hallucinogens so he screamed and pleaded in horror. Some, his least favorite, liked him giggly and high so they could pretend that he wasn’t chained to a bed.

Thankfully, this time he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. Like always he wished that they had given him too much. 

The world came back in a series of blurred faces and loud voices. A gentle hand rested on his shoulder, startling him awake.

“No, no, no,” he slurred out, a woman’s face coming into focus. 

“Calm down,” he gentle voice broke through some of the fog. He knew the woman who came to visit him; she liked to make him scream without drugs. “We’re with the FBI. We’re here to help you.”

Hands closed around the shackle around his ankle and he shrieked, weakly kicking out. The woman kept trying to soothe him as they moved him to a gurney, despite how he struggled. 

Blaine had seen the other kids being led down the hall; he knew they never came back. 

He could hear screams and crying from the rooms around him, making his heart rate pick up. 

“Please don’t,” he whimpered, eyes flicking around. 

“Just calm down. We’re taking you to a hospital. Can you tell me your name?” The woman asked, a warm smile on her face. 

“Um…it’s…” his mind went blank for a moment. He hadn’t really thought about it in a long time. No one here wanted to know his name; no one wanted to think he was human. 

“It’s alright,” she rubbed his shoulder, making his body seize up. “Just rest.”

“Blaine!” He blurted quickly, feeling himself being pulled into unconsciousness. “My name is Blaine Anderson.”

—

Compared to the dark, dirty room he had been kept in, the hospital was too bright. The sheets rubbed against his body in a way that made him squirm. 

Blaine hated this, absolutely hated this.

Back in the room, he knew what was going to happen. He knew that people were going to come in and hurt him, he knew what to expect from the drugs, and he knew that there were forty-seven tiles.

Now, Blaine felt his body wracked with pain and nausea, which the doctors explained as withdrawal. People he didn’t know walked in and they were so  _nice._  Blaine knew that the people who acted the nicest were usually the cruelest. 

Everything was too much.

“Hi Blaine,” the social worker, Ms. Burke, gave him a warm smile from where she stood a respectable distance away. “How are you feeling?”

He stayed silent. Sometimes they beat him when he spoke. 

“You went through a horrible ordeal,” she continued and a man walked in, making him tense and try to scramble away. “It’s okay! This is Agent Lewis from the FBI. We can help you.”

“No thank you,” he whispered, voice hoarse. 

“We know what happened,” Blaine pulled his knees up to his chest a little tighter. “We want to make sure that the people who did this to you pay.”

“You can’t question him until his parents get here,” the agent said softly and he finally looked up. 

“My parents are coming?” Blaine whispered and Ms. Burke nodded. 

“They’ll be here soon.”

He took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. The FBI agent was still talking to him but he let his eyes drift across the ceiling.

One…two…three…four…

—

Blaine heard his mother before he saw her. Her heels clacked loudly against the floors of the hospital as she raced towards the room. A mess of black curls came into view and she was at his side in a moment.

It was almost shocking to see his well-put together mother with her makeup smeared across her face and her clothes a mess. 

“My baby boy,” she choked out, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. 

“Don’t!” He snapped, hands flying up to shove her off. “Please don’t.”

She shot backwards, eyes wide and wild as Blaine pulled his legs up to his chest. The horrified look on her face made tears fill his eyes and he began to sob. 

For six months he had been in Hell. For six months he hadn’t allowed himself to hope that he could escape. For six months he had shut down. 

In the span of a few hours everything had changed. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she breathed, sinking into a nearby chair as his father hurried in. “Oh my God.”

A cold, slimy feeling flooded through him as he realized that they knew. They knew exactly what had happened to him. They knew that he had been chained to a bed and forced to…

“We never stopped looking for you,” his father said softly.

_Liar._

“I’m sorry,” Blaine whispered. 

“Don’t be sorry,” his mother said quickly, hands fluttering near his arm. “Don’t ever be sorry baby.”

Blaine didn’t speak for the rest of the day, eyes fixed on the starched white sheets. Too many people kept coming into his room without asking; too many people were touching him without permission. 

Then Cooper knocked softly on the door, hair perfectly styled and dressed in his usual leather jacket and t-shirt. It wasn’t different, this was something he recognized, and he relaxed.

“God, baby brother,” his eyes were sad as he lingered at the door. “Can I come in?”

He nodded slightly and Cooper slowly walked in, keeping to the sides of the room. With every small step, Blaine’s emotions warred inside of him. He was torn between relaxing now that his big brother was here and panicking that someone else was in his space. 

“How did you get here so fast?” Blaine’s voice was hoarse. 

“The director of the new show I’m on has a private jet and…well I threatened to quit if he didn’t fly me here,” his lips quirked up a little. “…we thought you were dead.”

Blaine nodded, eyes flicking to his brother’s face. “You’re on a new show?”

“Yeah!” Cooper grinned and started ranting about his latest show. It let him forget for a moment what had happened. It let him forget that his parents fled for the cafeteria as soon as they could. 

It was just like it used to be. He wasn’t a victim; he was just a little brother. 

—

“Please Blaine, tell us what happened.”

The same thing had been repeated again and again. FBI agent after FBI agent had sat in the chair next to him and asked him the same question. Every time his heart stuttered and his mind went blank. 

Then Agent Newton came in. She was young, this might have even been her first case in the department, and she looked almost as scared as he felt. 

“I was walking home from school,” he finally whispered when she was in his room alone. “My car was having trouble and I wasn’t able to get a ride. I figured I wasn’t that far from school so…I should walk. 

I had my earphones in so I didn’t hear anything. Then, a van drove up and two guys jumped out. I never saw their faces…they put a bag over my head and pulled me in…”

“You’re doing wonderfully Blaine,” her eyes softened as he took in a shaky breath. 

“I don’t remember anything. They stuck me with a needle and I woke up in the room,” he bowed his head, swallowing convulsively.

“Thank you for telling me Blaine,” she gave him a warm smile. “I know that was difficult but you could have helped us save others. It was very brave. Do you think that you could identify any of the people who…hurt you?”

“Maybe some,” he shrugged. 

“That’s so great,” a wide smile spread across her face. “I’ll bring in some pictures and we’ll go over them. Just rest now.”

He nodded and settled back against the pillows, eyes flicking across the ceiling tiles. “Can you tell my parents something?” 

“Of course,” Agent Newton smiled. 

“I’d like to…see him,” he whispered, hands twisting into the sheets. Agent Newton smiled and stepped out of the room and he just went back to counting.

One…two…three…four…

—

_His name had been Curt Stallings. The name was honestly the cruelest thing of all. He was tall and thin with dark hair and green eyes. When he first came to the room, Blaine had been so high that his face kept shifting to something more familiar._

_After a few weeks of pain, the mix of drugs and gentle touches was almost soothing._

_“I never do things like this,” Curt had chuckled softly to himself as his fingers trailed over Blaine’s cheeks and lips. “Never wanted to, but then I had a fight with my wife and decided to let off a little steam. Who knew I’d find you here? It’s like fate.”_

_Blaine had just smiled back, feeling like he was floating somewhere near the forty-seven tiles._

_Curt started coming twice a week, touching him lovingly and kissing him deeply. By then, he wasn’t even aware of what was really happening. He knew that Curt told him he was pretty and never hurt him. The drugs that Curt asked for made him feel floaty and happy, an emotion he never felt anymore._

_It was better than the man who liked the electric shocks, or the man who liked to choke him. He just wanted to stop hurting._

_“I’m going to leave her,” Curt said softly, spooning behind him and lightly rubbing circles on his stomach. “I’m going to leave her. I’m saving up money for us. I’ll buy you and we’ll get a nice home, maybe even in Paris! I know you’ll love it there.”_

_The drugs made his mind fuzzy and confused and he could almost hear his Kurt joking about their plans for a summer home in France. His chest ached terribly as Curt’s hand splayed possessively across his stomach._

_With trembling fingers, Blaine touched Curt’s wedding ring and stared at the way the light glinted off of the metal. “Love you. Fearlessly and forever.”_

_“I’ll get you a ring too,” Curt promised, kissing the back of his neck as his hand slid further down. “We’ll be so happy.”_

_When Curt left that night, Blaine screamed himself hoarse. He tried to strangle himself with his sheets and was forced to spend the next few days with all his limbs tied to the corners of the bed._

_—_

Kurt was going to be here any minute. 

Nerves made his stomach clench painfully and he stared intently at the closed door. What had they told Kurt? Had they told him what had happened, how many people had hurt him? What if he wasn’t coming? What if he decided that he couldn’t be with someone so broken? What if he was coming to give back the ring?

_I’ll get you a ring too._

Suddenly uncomfortable, Blaine stretched his legs out and pressed his hands into his thighs. The sounds of the doctors and nurses working outside his room kept him in a constant state of stress.

A soft knock made him jump and he tried desperately to calm himself down. “Blaine? It’s Kurt. Can…can I come in?” 

“Sure,” Blaine finally managed to choke out, holding perfectly still as Kurt stepped in.

He looked just the same, dressed in a nice jacket and brightly colored mint pants. Kurt’s eyes were wide and scared as he shoved his hands in his pocket and stared at his fiancé.

“Hi,” Blaine breathed.

“Hi,” tears sparkled in Kurt’s eyes and he gave him a tiny smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when you got back, I was in New York.”

There, it was like he was coming back from vacation or something.

“It’s okay. There have been…a lot of people here. My parents can’t stand to be in the same room as me,” his fingers dug slightly into his legs. 

Kurt let out a sob and covered his mouth with his left hand, his ring sparkling. “Blaine, I’m sure-“

“Can you take that off?” Blaine interrupted, eyes locked on the ring. 

Kurt’s eyes widened with horror and his hand fell to his lap. His chin wobbled slightly and tears began to run down his cheeks. “Blaine, I…please-“

“Just take it off,” Blaine kept staring at his feet, too terrified that he would look up and Kurt would be a different person.

“Do you want it back?” Kurt’s voice trembled and he looked up to see Kurt holding to ring out to him.

He shook his head, pushing away the cruel voice in the back of his mind. “I want you to keep it. Just…don’t wear it.”

“Okay,” Kurt nodded, looking relieved, as he put the ring in the front pocket of his shirt. His breathing hitched slightly and he curled in on himself. “I didn’t believe my dad when he told me that you were found. The police said that after so much time…”

They both lapsed into silence and Blaine glanced over to him, taking him in. Kurt was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen. With trembling hands, he reached forward and gently cupped Kurt’s cheek. 

“I thought about you every day,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face. “Then you didn’t come back. I thought-“

He broke down into desperate sobs, reaching up to take Blaine’s hand. He struggled against the instinct to pull away and just let Kurt hold on. During his entire time in that room, he had tried not to think of Kurt. He didn’t want to associate his beautiful fiancé with that place. In the beginning, he had tried his hardest not to think of Kurt when those men were there. Then, with the help of the drugs, allowed his mind to drift to happier times. 

How could he tell Kurt he had thought of him when other men were using him?

“I love you so much,” Kurt leaned forward for a kiss and Blaine pushed him back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

“I love you too,” the words flowed so easily off his tongue and Blaine found himself relaxing a little. 

—

It was like someone had put him back together but hadn’t looked too hard at the broken pieces. They tried their hardest to fix him, checking off all the boxes before sending him home. But with the broken pieces and missing parts, he didn’t fit into his life anymore.

Everything in Blaine’s room was in its place. Every trophy was on its shelf, every book where it was before. His guitar was placed neatly in its corner like always.

So, the thing that felt out of place was him.

Blaine could feel his parents’ worried eyes on him as he walked slowly around the room. He had finished treatment, set up therapy appointments for every day, spoken to the FBI, picked out pictures of people he remembered, and scheduled his appointments for his HIV tests. Now, he was just a recovering victim. 

“Would you like something to eat?” His mother asked softly, gripping the doorframe tightly. 

“No,” he shook his head, ignoring the way she always looked like she was going to have a breakdown and the way his father looked desperate to flee. “Can I just take a nap?”

“Of course! Just yell if you want something,” she gave him a wan smile. “We missed you so much sweetheart.”

“I missed you too,” he weakly smiled back and his father all but ran, leaving his mother at the door. “Can you shut the door?”

As soon as the door clicked shut, he fell back on his bed and huffed out a heavy sigh. Blaine closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep but his mind went on overdrive.

The bed he was in wasn’t a hospital bed, he couldn’t hear the sound of beeping machines, and he didn’t smell the antiseptic. This was all too familiar.

Blaine’s breathing picked up as memories started bleeding into his brain. 

Albert, the man who hit him and called him a whore as he made him cry. 

Nathan, the man who never said a word but pumped him full of drugs that made his skin feel like it was on fire.

Nina, the woman who cooed at him and asked him to call her mommy.

It felt like all of them were in the room and touching him. This room had once been a place of great comfort for Blaine. On this bed he had his first time with the man he loved, he had spent so many nights curled up with Kurt dreaming about their future.

Now it was tainted. 

With a shaking gasp, he all but threw himself out of bed, dragging his comforter behind him. He wrenched open the closet door and shoved aside the clothes before making a nest of the blanket and settling down.

This was so much better. He was hidden from people coming in and it wasn’t anything like that room.

Finally, Blaine felt like he could sleep. 

—

“You’re mad at me,” Blaine whispered from where he sat in the closet, looking up at Kurt with wide eyes. 

Kurt had moved the television around so he could watch it without moving and had made himself comfortable against another wall. He frowned and paused the movie, turning to face Blaine fully. 

“No I’m not. Why would you say that?” He frowned. 

“You haven’t really talked to me. You used to always talk,” he took in a shaky breath. 

“I’m not mad, I just don’t know what to say,” Kurt shrugged. “I have no idea how to…deal.”

“Yeah…not much information on what to do after this,” Blaine felt his lips quirk a little bit up in a smile before it faded completely. “You don’t have to stay with me just because of what happened. I was gone for a really long time.” 

“I’m not leaving,” Kurt’s voice was soft. “I thought you were dead. I kept waiting for the time when I would get a call that they found your body in a shallow grave. I felt…I thought you were  _dead_  Blaine. Then I find out that you’re alive but you’ve been through hell. I’m beyond thrilled that you’re back but…I don’t know how to help.”

Pursing his lips together, Blaine stared intently at Kurt. He could feel his hands starting to tremble and clenched them into fists. Not for one moment did Kurt look away, he just waited for Blaine to speak.

“You know what happened.”

“I do,” Kurt nodded. “That isn’t scaring me away Blaine. I just want to help you, even if you…don’t want to be engaged or-“

“What?” Blaine frowned, eyes flickering from his bare left hand to his eyes. “Of course I do…unless you don’t?”

“No!” Kurt’s eyes widened and it was obvious that he was forcing himself to stay in place. “I want to be your fiancé, I want it more than anything. I just thought…you told me to take off the ring.”

Blaine closed his eyes tight and swallowed heavily. It wasn’t fair for Kurt to stay if he didn’t know all the details. He trusted Kurt and he had sworn to never lie to him, but he had never even thought about what he would say. They were going to get married, going to spend the rest of their lives together. They couldn’t do that with secrets between them.

“Can…can I tell you what happened?” He asked weakly and something in Kurt’s eyes shattered as he nodded. “When I was there, I was sold. You know that…I’m sure you can figure out what happened. They drugged me so I would be easier to deal with and to disorient me. One man…his name was Curt.”

Kurt nodded, eyes already growing a little shiny.

“He was trying to avoid being around his wife and then I think it just because a habit. He came all the time…sometimes he didn’t even…he liked to hold me,” Blaine stared at his bare feet, chest rattling with suppressed sobs. “They gave me something that made me happy. It made everything feel good and he…he fucking acted like we were in  _love_. He told me that he was going to get me a ring and he was going to buy me so that we could be  _happy_  somewhere like France. He…he even looked like you and I was drugged and so hurt and confused and I…”

He broke off into a sob and Kurt inched forward slightly, tears streaming down his cheeks. His hands hovered somewhere near Blaine’s knees, clearly not sure if he should touch him or not.

“I’m not-“

“I called out his name when he was fucking me,” Blaine felt himself become eerily calm, like everything inside of him had frozen. “I came, I liked it. They wouldn’t even let me strangle myself to try to get away. Sometimes…I thought he was you and I liked it.”

“Listen,” Kurt said softly, letting his hands rest on the floor in front of him. “You were drugged. You were hurt. It was a survival technique, a way to escape. It wasn’t cheating and it didn’t make you any less of a victim. That monster wasn’t going to help you; he was going to buy you like property. He was going to keep using you.”

“I know,” Blaine’s voice cracked and he looked up at the ceiling as he wiped away tears. 

“You survived something horrific. I don’t think I could have had the strength to do the same,” Kurt reached forward and gently took one of his hands. “But, I will never hurt you. I will never make you do anything you didn’t want to because I love you.”

“I love you too,” Blaine squeezed his hand. “I want you to have the ring, I do. But…”

“I understand,” Kurt gave him a shaky smile. “We’ll take this little by little.”

—

The tight coil of nerves in his stomach almost became painful as the doorbell rang. He hated that it felt weird to wear clothes again, at least clothes that weren’t sweatpants and a t-shirt. Kurt told him that he didn’t need to dress up, that his parents would understand if he just dressed comfortably, but Blaine refused. Burt and Carole remembered him as the well dressed, well put together fiancé of their son. He just wanted a few people to see him as something besides broken.

A sharp knock at the front door made Blaine’s insides spasm with panic and he remembered how many other times he had heard that knock.

_I’m here to see the pretty one._

“Hey Blaine?” Cooper called out from the other side of his door and he let out a trembling breath. “The Hummels are here. Do you want to come down now or later?”

“I’m ready,” his voice cracked a little as he unlocked the door and stepped outside.

“Hey, you styled your hair,” Cooper smiled, for a moment looking a little less exhausted than he always did. “It is a little long though.”

“Could you help me cut it later?” He asked and Cooper’s entire face lit up.

“Of course!” 

The sound of the Hummels talking with his parents almost made him run back up the stairs. Was this too much? Was it too soon? 

“Hey there Blaine,” Burt gave him a warm smile and Kurt walk up to his side, hand resting near his so that he could make the choice to take it or not.

“Hi,” he quickly tangled his fingers with Kurt, relieved that he now had an anchor. 

There weren’t any long conversations about how much they missed him or how they never gave up. There weren’t any tears or long stares. They all sat down and passed around the food, chatting happily about random things about their days. It was just like it was before, just like nothing had happened. For once he wasn’t reminded of that time and Blaine felt just like a normal person for a moment.

“I recorded a bunch of Ohio’s games,” Burt said softly, nodding at Blaine. “When you feel up to it, you are more than welcome to come over and watch them.”

Blaine gave him a smile, his face aching with the unfamiliar expression. 

—

It had been a month and a half since he had come home and Blaine still hadn’t moved out of the closet. Of course, Kurt had brought over tons of pillows, cushions and blankets to make a little nest. The television had been moved, a small stack of books had been placed by the door, and Blaine was relaxed. 

Despite how bizarre it all was Kurt and Blaine had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Kurt would come over and they would just take the time to be together. Even if being together meant staying on opposite sides of the room from each other.

“Kurt?” He finally worked up the courage and Kurt smiled at him over his Vogue. “Can you…come here?”

“Sure,” Kurt stood and walked closer, kneeling down as soon as he was in front of the closet door. 

“Can you sit here with me?” Blaine asked after a few deep breaths. 

Kurt’s eyes softened and he carefully moved to sit in the closet with him. He sat down, shifting around to try and not press against him. Blaine reached up to cup his cheeks and stared at his face, trying to see his fiancé and not the face that haunted his nightmares.

Kurt had a sharper chin.

Kurt had lighter hair.

Kurt had a dusting of freckles across his nose.

Kurt’s eyes were so beautiful that for a moment he felt like he was drowning in them.

“Where’s the ring?” He asked softly and Kurt instantly pressed a hand against his shirt pocket, right over his heart. Silently, he reached into the pocket and pulled out the ring. It really was perfect, he had spent a lot of time picking it out. There were decorative grooves and a small set in diamond, looking nothing like plain silver. “Can I put it back on?”

Kurt nodded furiously, tears flashing in his eyes. Both of their fingers trembled as he slid the ring back where it belonged and he gently stroked his thumb over it.

“Right back where it belongs,” he whispered.

“With me,” Kurt smiled, squeezing his hand tightly. 

This wasn’t something that could be fixed in a manner of weeks or months. It probably would never be truly fixed. Something inside of him would forever be broken, glued and taped back together but the cracks would still be there. 

One day, he was going to go to New York to live with Kurt. One day, he would have the courage to walk out of his house. One day, he would stand at the alter with his husband. 

Those were things that those people could never take away from him. 


	2. Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sequel to Forty Seven: A couple of years later, Blaine are in NY, going to school and trying to have a normal life. One night at a party, Kurt takes Rachel’s drink, that’s spiked. Blaine soon recognizes the way Kurt giggles and touches him as the effects of a drug that was used on him. He tries to stay calm as he takes Kurt home, scared that he’s hurting Kurt every time he touches him. Kurt wakes up alone hours later. When he finds his fiancé sleeping in the closet, he knows something’s wrong.

Kurt had promised that he wasn’t going to drink.

He promised. 

Blaine could barely hold back tears as he struggled to hold up Kurt’s stumbling frame. Walking down this dark, empty street caused his throat to tighten with terror.

_He saw a van pulling up next to him out of the corner of his eye._

“I feel funny,” Kurt slurred.

_His vision swam in and out of focus as the needle slid into his arm. The man patted his arm and gave him a nasty grin. “He’s gonna like you kiddo.”_

Had the men struggled this much when they carried him to the van?

They had talked about this before the party. Blaine had just started getting comfortable going out on the town but alcohol terrified him. Kurt had sworn not to drink; he knew that the idea of him being affected by alcohol was something Blaine worried about.

He didn’t want Kurt to be unable to think properly. 

He was terrified of the idea that Kurt wouldn’t be able to say no or hear him say no.

“It’s because you got drunk,” Blaine snapped back, heart racing. He didn’t mean for his voice to get a sharp edge. 

“No, it was just a coke,” Kurt groaned, leaning heavier on him. “Weeeeeeell, it was Rachel’s coke. The one that creep got her.”

He almost fell over as Blaine froze in place. When he had first been kidnapped, they had slipped drugs into his drinks. After some time he had figured it out and refused to drink. That’s when they started tying him down and sticking him with a needle. 

Oh God.

He recognized the strange giggles bursting from Kurt’s lips and the way his eyes drooped. As quickly as he could, Blaine got Kurt back into the loft and placed him gently on their bed. 

His mind went blank as he stared down at Kurt’s prone body. Was this what those men had seen? Had they stared down at the boy in the bed and gotten excited that he couldn’t fight back?

Blaine took three huge steps to the closet and threw all the hanging clothes onto the floor. He grabbed the comforter and climbed into closet, closing his eyes and just trying to breathe.

—

When Kurt opened his eyes, he had to slam them shut again. His head was killing him, absolutely killing him. His mouth was dry and his throat ached. 

Shakily, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and groaned. 

Kurt held his hands in his head and tried dazedly to remember what happened. He remembered Rachel trying to avoid this creepy man. He remembered her giving him a tense smile before handing the drink over to him. He remembered…nothing…

He was drugged. 

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. He had a drugged drink. Then how did he get home?

Kurt glanced around the room and felt his heart pound as he caught sight of the pile of clothes in the corner. Blaine was sitting in their closet, knees pulled up to his chest. His eyes were red rimmed and wide open as he stared into nothing.

“Blaine?” Kurt croaked out and Blaine snapped his head towards him. 

Tears started running slowly down Blaine’s cheeks and he jumped as Kurt slipped to the floor and crawled towards him. “You were not yourself.”

Kurt’s heart shattered. “I don’t remember what happened. Did…did I hurt you?”

“If I hadn’t been there who knows what could have happened,” Blaine said slowly, trembling. “I put you in bed…like those men did.”

“You are nothing like them!” Kurt said sharply, making Blaine flinch. “You helped me, nothing happened.”

“But it could.”

Kurt stared at him, mind completely blank. They had come so far and Blaine had become so much stronger. It took so much time before he was even able to get out of the loft without panicking. This just brought them all back to square one.

And Kurt had no idea what to say or do. 


End file.
